Words Unsaid
by ipona
Summary: Goodbye was always bittersweet, but Sweden never thought it would hurt this much. Sweden/Finland, angsty smut


A light ruffle in the sheets awoke Sweden in the early hours of dawn. Opening his eyes, he scanned the room from underneath white covers. Finland was on his feet next to the bed. Something stung in Sweden's heart as the man pulled on one of his nicest shirts – one that Sweden remembered had been his own once upon a time, but then was altered, by his own hands, to fit Finland's slight frame.

"Where 're ya' goin'?" the Swede mumbled, voice heavy with sleep. Finland snapped around, obviously not expecting Sweden to be awake at this hour.

"I-" he began, stuttering. "You know I have to leave."

"Later."

"No. Now." Finland sighed in exasperation. "Thought it'd be easier on you this way."

"Why?"

Finland sighed again, and for the first time since Sweden awoke, Finland stared right into his eyes, his resolve seemingly disappearing as he walked up to the side of the bed. Those violet, _beautiful_ eyes bore into Sweden's with such intensity, but Sweden knew by now that intensity wasn't always a good thing. So he let his hands rise to grasp Finland, the sheet slipping from his body as he did so. His fingers tangled in the soft fabric of Finland's shirt and his head fell to rest against Finland's chest. "Please," he whispered.

"I can't," Finland said, seemingly more to himself than to Sweden as his hands tangled in the tall man's fair hair. "You know I can't."

Sweden's hands wandered over Finland's sides, pushing and tracing over the fabric. As he inched down, ghosting fingertips over the Finn's bottom, he whispered, lips touching fabric as he spoke; "One last time?"

His chest vibrated with laughter under Sweden's forehead and he pulled away long enough to lean down to press a sweet kiss to Sweden's lips. _Bittersweet_, Sweden thought, because it was a goodbye of sorts. "Please," he murmured, hands holding onto Finland more firmly. And then Finland let Sweden pull him down again, settling on the Swede's waist, legs on either side of his naked chest.

Looking up at Finland, Sweden saw something he had had a hard time seeing before, something more than the boy he had brought into his house, more than the teenager he who had been eager to please him, politically, military, _and sexually_. There was more to Finland, something strong and wild, something that had grown from hard times, war fought on his land without his consent, something that didn't look up at Sweden anymore, but rather wanted to be on equal terms. Even if it meant being with Russia.

Finland leaned down to press kisses over Sweden's neck and chest, warmth and pleasure blooming over the skin that Finnish lips touched so very intimately. This was the last time, and thoughts were running wild in Sweden's head – Finland was not allowed to forget, his touch, his kiss, his name, his love.

And so he pushed Finland off, only to press him back into the lumpy mattress, kissing him ferociously, fire and passion in his every move. Finland's arms snaked around Sweden's neck, holding him close, accepting every kiss Sweden forced against his lips. Hands slipped under Finland's shirt, stroking over ivory skin that stretched over tight muscle. Skin that Sweden had come to know so very well over centuries felt new and exciting, and he pushed the shirt out of the way to explore it anew, like he had before, when they both were younger and more insecure.

He let his lips run along the lines of the Finn's chest, over his collarbone, kissing a nipple until it was wet – then blowing lightly on it, down his ribs and belly, slipping his tongue into his navel, sucking the skin on his hip until a crimson mark bloomed on pale white.

Finland's breathing had quickened, and he was almost panting as Sweden pressed a line of wet kisses over the band of his pants, only stopping to nuzzle the fair treasure trail that lead to _the treasure_, for lack of a better word. As large hands came up to help, squeezing the Finn's cock that had become harder with every kiss pressed to his skin, Finland moaned, short and choked in the back of his throat, hands coming up to his mouth to muffle his voice.

"Don't," Sweden whispered as he dragged Finland's pants down over his hips. He wanted to hear Finland's voice, wanted it as a reminder in the years to come, when Finland might very well be making the same sounds in another man's bed, by another man's touch. The thought was unbearable, and Sweden's hand got rough as he released Finland from his pants, sitting up for only a moment to allow the fabric to slide off his legs, before he crushed Finland down on the mattress, their bodies pressing together.

Finland moaned right into Sweden's ear this time, and the sweet, needy sound, drove Sweden crazy with desire. His hips jerked forward, almost instinctively, and pressed his erection against Finland, trapping both of their cocks between warms bellies. The friction of rubbing against Finland's hot body made electricity course through Sweden's body and his forehead dropped to Finland shoulder as he tried desperately to regain composure and control over the situation.

It always seemed hard when Finland was involved, that sweet smile being but the surface of his being, hiding something far more vicious and far more erotic. Even now, when Sweden was pressing him into the mattress, he managed to rile him up beyond all limits, to break him apart and put him back together, without even trying.

It was a painful realization that Sweden would probably be missing Finland more than Finland would miss Sweden.

Of course, Finland blocked all of that out of Sweden's mind as he pressed their lips together again, tangling their tongues in the most erotic of ways. Hands wandered along Sweden's sides; down to squeeze his ass to bring him closer as his legs fell open, welcoming the Swede to fully settle between them.

Kissing Finland again and again, Sweden was getting higher and higher. He pulled away for only a moment to gaze at Finland's face, eyes deep violet and cloudy, lips swollen from their kisses, breathing labored, blonde hair falling over his forehead, cheeks tinted soft pink.

"You're so beautiful," Sweden blurted out before he had time to stop it. Finland pulled him down for another kiss, and Sweden could feel the hopelessness, the desperation that filled his heart making it to heavy to bear. This was too much, yet not enough, because this was goodbye, this was an ending.

His hands spread Finland's thighs apart, and fingers found their destination between Finland's legs, pushing into him, curling and stretching until Finland's hands stopped them and the perfect little Finn whispered, in voice so low and husk; "Take me."

Obliging with Finland's request proved to be the only plausible thing to do, and without further ado, Sweden settled between Finland's legs, pushing into him slowly, eyes fixed on Finland's face as the man gritted his teeth, in pain perhaps, but that was all part of the game, part of the pleasure that hid just behind the next bend. Stroking Finland's cock slowly and pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to Finland's neck were Sweden's way of soothing the hurt, and soon Finland's voice broke into a moan and his hands slipped to Sweden's ass, urging him to move with a hard squeeze.

Drawing out, slipping back in, sliding together with a practiced ease, Sweden drowned in the feeling of Finland. Seeing that body, small but strong, thrash around, moaning and gasping his name made him wonder how he would survive. Feeling the hot, tight slide of their bodies as one, emotions going wild in his chest, knotting in his heart, heat spreading through his body until the only thing that existed was Finland, Sweden felt like crying.

He crashed down on top of Finland, still thrusting into him, to wrap his arms around his body, pressing him impossibly close as his nerves were lit on fire and he moaned the Finn's name in ecstasy. He heard Finland's answering whines and felt the clenching around him, bringing him to orgasm as Finland's own release splattered over their stomachs, staining the shirt that still clung to Finland's body.

Falling asleep in Finland's arms that morning would be the thing Sweden regretted the most in the coming years, for when he awoke a few hours later, he was alone. The only remainder of the Finn was the small note left on Sweden's desk.

The words written in a graceful handwriting were in Finnish, and Sweden felt a cold tear run down his cheek when he realized he didn't understand the language of the person he claimed to love the most.

* * *

_A/N: It's been too long since I wrote SuFin last time. It was definitely time for it. I've missed writing these two. :D_

_Review?_


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